


Conviction

by rachelarcher



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelarcher/pseuds/rachelarcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It ain’t perfect, it ain’t easy. He has no clue what hes doing, but hes felt more alive since meeting Rick, then the whole time it was just him and Keaton. For the first time since Merle died, Daryl has someone to put faith in, someone who means well, and is full of conviction. Rick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conviction

**Author's Note:**

> No clue what this is or where it came from.

Shes tired, so fucking tired. Her head hurts, and the whole day was a complete cluster fuck. Walking to the garage had become second nature only to helping out around old man Dale’s house from time to time. Her world had shifted, horribly, early in the morning, and right now, she needed a bite of her addiction. Only place she knew he would be. Only, it wouldn’t be him, it would be his baby brother who’d she rely on tonight.

Daryl’s eyes are bloodshot, and he looks just as hungry as her, when she climbs up onto the counter, her knees spread, face in her hands. They both know this isn’t healthy, both know damn well, the end result for them both will be dire and desperation. Merle’s last act of kindness, his one and only shining moment, as he was bleeding out, bullet from his father’s gun working its way to his heart… was killing his and Daryl’s father William.

Six months, six months with no Merle. She’s a ghost to him to, a reminded of who Merle was… who Merle could have been. His mouth finds hers, and they are tangled, both clinging to the other, praying with each slide of lips, each buck of hips. A prayer they both know well, trying hard ot breathe life into each other. 

He isn’t suprised when he works her dress over her frame, to find her completely naked. The scar from the night of doom carved up her ribs. The last piece of abuse Merle left on her. The last inkling he ever existed on her skin, on her flesh, in her heart. It runs from her left lower ribs across to her right shoulder, across her breast. Daryl licks at it, feeling the heat that is her.

He has his own scars from that night, but his are invisble to the naked eye, hidden by his riddled flesh, tucked away forever in his heart. They live in the house that damned them, they don’t do this there. His buckle makes a rattling noise as his pants hit the floor. They don’t talk, there is no need. Hes buried in her, as if they belong together. Fucking the only girl his brother ever loved. 

-/-

Cuddling in bed with her, it kills him. He remembers her body wrapped tight around Merle, Merle rubbing her hair, and pointing out things in the night sky. That was a long time ago though, that was before Merle was so mad at William, he killed him. That was before she lost the one thing both and and Merle wanted despeatly.

A small chance at redemtion, a baby all thier own. Sure, Daryl had no hand in getting her pregnant, but William had damn near killed her when he found out, beat her half to death. Merle had been drinking that morning, out with friends. Daryl took her to the hospital. They sent her home, telling her the baby would pass on its own. Like it was a bad stomach bug.

Daryl had told Merle, whispered it. Then the house was at war. Daryl did what Merle told him, protected her, protected her frail form as she cried and whimpered begging them to stop. The two gunshots moments apart, had even Daryl shaking in his shoes. He made her wait, and he held Merle as life slipped away from him.

He can’t go past this part of the house. Neither can she. They sleep in the kitchen on a bed. A black curtin blocks out the other rooms, conceals the hell they remember being on just the other side. They don’t talk, don’t need to, not now. They operate inside themselves, knowing full well the other is there for them.

-/-

A baby boy named Merle… Daryl was the only person alive, only one to hold him. She slipped away, letting her body bleed out. Her eyes locking momentarily on Daryl’s, her red lips pulling at a smile. He knew she was going to be with Merle. Knew it in his soul.

Named the little baby he held Merle Keaton Dixon. Merle for the man lost to Daryl, and Keaton for the woman he laid to rest, the woman who had given him exactly what she had praied for, and had paid the highest price for. 

He doesn’t go when Keaton is buried, knows the silent woman was dead long before she bled out in the hospital. She died the night Merle died, withered for the next almost two years, suffered as she aged, her heart cripling her from doing anything.

Daryl’s barly 21 the first time he holds his son, hes ready for his life, ready to move from the place that killed the two people he loved the most. Keaton had never been a shy woman, he had always wondered why she loved Merle, he thought he understood, they were two halves of a whole, two pieces that couldn’t work right without the other.

-/-

MK Dixon, that’s what his son goes by. He’s almost four, the first time Daryl meets Richard Grimes. Rick, Richard goes by, is hovering by his son, whose clearly the same age as MK, with a baby in his arms, little thing, and a look in his eyes Rick knows all to well. 

It’s preschool time, and Daryl hates himself for being excited about it. MK had been hard to take care of on his own, with no experiece. His best friend Maggie and her little sister Beth had damn near saved his life. Daryl don’t normally apporach anyone, but he’s got MK’s hand in his and is making his way to Rick Grimes.

They talk, its nothing grand, but he tells Rick that he knows the look he is wearing, and should he need anything, just to call on him. Lives above the garage he operates. Daryl doubts the man will ever call, but then Rick does. 

He looks ill, when Daryl opens the door. Carl is fidgiting, and the little girl who Daryl recalls is named Jude is clearly cold. “No heat.” Rick explains.

Daryl doesn’t ask any questions, brings them in and starts to get them blankets. Gets Carl and Jude into bed with MK, then finds Rick on the couch. He doesn’t know what he expects, but he finds himself rubbing Rick’s arms, trying to warm him.

-/-

They don’t leave. Daryl doesn’t know why, can’t even begin to understand why Rick Grimes has picked him as his friend, decided he will be the one that helps him through his hell. His wife left him, for his best friend, then she up and died in a car wreck. His best friend keeps making excuses to talk to him at work, so Rick moved. 

Moved out of Atlanta and into the small town. Daryl learns that Rick don’t much care for women, in bed. That is something Daryl can get used to, being around someone like him. He’s not sure when it happens, or how it starts, but he’s gotten used to Rick being around.

-/-

Its a thundering night, complete with winds that make the building shake. Reminds Daryl of something, a horrible night that led to MK. He’s jolted awake, fear in his heart. Rick’s not home yet. Carl and Jude are asleep with MK, Daryl checks his phone. No calls. They arn’t really dating or anything, its more like two dudes raising kids together.

No one at the station except maybe Abraham would call him, and that would be more out of concern for Rick’s kids. Just as he thinks it, his phone lights up. Abe Ford. Daryl’s heart feels like an ice monster has gripped it as he answers the phone.

-/-

Ricks been shot, but he will live. Sometimes, Daryl wonders what God he prays to. One saves Rick, but the other kills Merle. He sighs a heavy sigh, and waits for Maggie. Once she gets there, he leaves.

Rick’s hooked up to a bunch of things, the sort of machines that make Daryl itch. He ain’t breathing on his own, yet. But it looks good. Daryl listens to the nurse, talk on and on. He ignores most of us. A glint of blonde makes him look hard, he could of swore he saw Keaton. 

He shakes the ghost from his head, just like Merle she arrives when he is worried or stressed. Their voices dance around his skull, both fighting for purchase. The demon tattoo on his shoulder is his most recent depiction of them. He shakes the thoughts from his head, and sinks down next to Rick.

-/-

Its two days before Rick wakes up, and the moment he does he’s smiling. Daryl is fast asleep, hie head on Rick’s leg, their hands enterlaced. Rick squeezes his hand, Daryl’s head shoots up. Before Rick can say anything, Daryl’s mouth is on his. 

It ain’t perfect, it ain’t easy. He has no clue what hes doing, but hes felt more alive since meeting Rick, then the whole time it was just him and Keaton. For the first time since Merle died, Rick has someone to put faith in, someone who means well, and is full of conviction. Rick.


End file.
